My Cinderella
by onwingsofsnark
Summary: It would have never worked out, I see that now, that it never would have. You were a servant, nearly a slave, and I was the crown prince of a powerful nation. You were innocent and beautiful, yet as wild as the tundra... ONESHOT


**Nixiesocean: Hello! I know, my format is a little off this time, but that's because I wrote a letter, and I like the formatting of the whole story. Enough blabber. This is a spin on Cinderella. It's a letter from the prince to Cinderella, concerning trivial matters. I wrote this for an English paper.**

**Seriously though, I knew all the words I used. : ) Yay!**

**I hope you like this twist.**

_**My Cinderella**_

_My Cinderella,_

_It would have never worked out, I see that now, that it never would have. You were a servant, nearly a slave, and I was the crown prince of a powerful nation. You were innocent and beautiful, yet wild as the tundra. I was propriety in a human form. My mien was subtly different, and yet yours was more desirable._

_I knew when not to speak. I knew the lords, ladies, dukes and duchesses of my father's kingdom. I knew how low to bow to each one, what each one's title was. I knew which fork to eat with first and I knew when to request a new plate._

_I knew Algebra and I knew History._

_You knew herbs to cure a headache and which cleaners worked best against stains on silken shirts. You knew when to speak out against injustice and knew which baker's son would give you the most baked goods for your money. You knew how much strain you could put on your pertinacious stepmother and how much time it took to run to the well and back. You could make an avowal, break it, and precious little would know, or care. I could never do such a thing._

_You knew what I never thought about, and I knew what you never had longed for._

_You see, my Cinderella, it never would have worked._

_I could dance a gavotte, a bourrée or a sarabande. I could dance a gigue, a minuet or a tambourin._

_You could dance with a broomstick and the music in your head. You could dance with a small whistle and a work dress. I could dance with a partner on my arm and an orchestra playing in the background. I might be described at a perfect dancer, but you moved with a grace unheard of in my social circle._

_I could order a servant to fetch me red wine or to start my hot water bath. I could have riches made for me to order. I could hold a tournament in a lady's honor and I could order someone killed._

_You would run for that red wine and start that hot water. You would place that order and, maybe, grumble about the iniquity in the world. You would set-up that tournament and pretend you were that lady, and you would pity that condemned man._

_I ask you, Cinderella, is there truly iniquity? My riches, and my power, are countered by the many restrictions of my life._

_I grew up around tutors, barely even knowing the word 'freedom' and I grew up knowing I would become king one day. I was infused with pride towards my station in life; I wallowed in encomiums._

_You grew up in a carefree world, gaiety abounding, never caring that at that same time, I was locked in a dusty library learning the minutiae of history and mathematics. You played in mud, scraped your knee and hugged your father. You were given embraces and your injuries kissed to make them feel better. Although you might be poorer than myself, you were richer by far. My fetter was great, and yours, nonexistent._

_I envy you, my Cinderella: I envy you! A servant! A fireplace sweep! Is it possible, I ask myself so often, that a crown prince may envy a cinder-duster? A house-cleaner? An errand-runner?_

_I pray you never receive this letter. You would read it and wonder what you missed. You have missed nothing. You have been spared the odious gossip of court and you have been spared the heartbreak of not raising your own children. You have been spared the hurt of barely seeing me, if you ever were to become my wife. You have been spared the agony of sitting through tutors and lessons. You have been spared a pampered a lifestyle you never would have adjusted to._

_I hear from palace gossips you were married last summer. Is it so, my Cinderella, that you found happiness amongst commoners? Your fervent kindness towards everyone set you apart from us nobles. I heard your fiancé was the baker's son. Is that so? Am I false in my accusations? Was it the one you flirted with so endlessly to get extra bread for your harsh stepmother?_

_You might hear from street gossips that I am engaged, to marry this upcoming equinox. You might hear from those same talebearers that she is a foreigner. I do not deny it. I live a life dictated by my parents. My soon-to-be bride is an arranged marriage, something so common with those who live so high._

_Did you refuse my request because you knew this? Did you deny my offer of a better life because you ardently loved that baker's son? Did you know what you were giving up, or was it merely an impulse? Did you plan to steal my heart with your gentleness and your benevolence? Did you mean to place that indelible mark on my heart? Did you mean to bestow upon me a languor towards flirtation? Did you mean to leave such deep footprints upon my once-stone heart?_

_I vacillate about my choice in life. Should I have run? Should I have refused my destiny?_

_I shall not waste much more paper. I will dissipate the ashes of this letter into an easterly wind. Perhaps you will see the ashes flowing on the wind, and think of me, the prince you so long ago enchanted with a grace unheard of in my world._

_**The Prince**_


End file.
